Stepping Into The Stream

Many years ago, I felt called to begin to offer some teachings on shamanism as part of my practice. I had years of training as a practitioner, and ample experience as a teacher (years in each of high school math, martial arts, and some spiritual practices) and this calling felt aligned and natural. One of my strengths as a teacher has always been how to present material in a way that is grounded, easy to understand, and accessible to students, and I felt confident in my ability to ground some of the more esoteric concepts of shamanism for curious newbies.

I methodically organized my notes to begin by speaking about the basics of interdependence and animism, grounding the entire class in those root concepts which underpin the entire shamanic world. This was followed up with time covering Power Animals and other helping spirits, how to perform shamanic journeys safely, with ample time to practice. I felt good about how I had laid out the day. I had a bunch of people in my community sign up, and was excited and ready to go.

Until about two days before the class, when I had a huge crisis of confidence.

“Who am I to teach this??” I'm did not grow up in a tribal community. I do not have ancestral ties to natives of North America. I grew up as a white kid in New Jersey, in the suburbs of New York City, a fourth-generation American descended from Eastern European immigrants. In my own life, I didn't find a rhythm with and genuine appreciation for nature until my teens, and then didn't explore shamanism until my late twenties. So, I fretted, “What possible legs do I have to stand on to teach this material?”

To address this concern, I did a drumming journey to ask my helping spirits about this powerful self-doubt and imposter syndrome. What they showed me was a stream of energy that had no beginning and no end – at least not one that I could sense. It was bright lavender that sparkled and extended as far up and as far down as I could see, a giant waterfall running through time.

My helping spirits guided me to step into that stream and instantly I understood. It was not ME who was teaching. This is not information of my own. This stream has existed forever and will continue to exist forever. I do not need to carry the full weight of it, as I am just one of many many humans who has been granted access to this stream and can let this energy move through us out into the ordinary world, touching others. It is simply my responsibility to remember that this stream moves through me, and to guide others to approach it with humility and reverence to step into it on their own.

“You're a Tool”

Despite my efforts to be the proverbial Hollow Bone, I am human, and still get into the traps of the human psyche, and years later needed reminding of this teaching. Spirit reinforced this message of the stream, with different language. On a different journey, I was told, quite bluntly, “You're a tool.” As Spirit speaks in tongues, I heard multiple layers to that sentence. One was the way that phrase is spoken in jest to friends (I did let out an audible guffaw in response to this), a gentle put-down that is truly a loving reminder not to get too full of myself.

But also, a tool, such as a wrench, does nothing on its own. A wrench has no agency or animation. It takes the work of a craftsman to use the wrench skillfully. But, there's a vast difference between the 25-cent wrench that comes with build-your-own furniture from box stores and the $10,000 wrench that they take on the space shuttle. Spirit reminded me that my job is to make sure I'm the highest quality wrench to be “used” by these greater benevolent forces.

The Stream Keeps Going

Recently I've come to ask people when they say they like to be outside, or they prefer “time in nature,” what their favorite landscape or natural feature is. One woman recently didn't hesitate in her answer, immediately saying she loves rivers. When I asked her why (in addition to my curiosity to learn about this person, it was also a door for me to understand river medicine from another angle), she replied, “No matter what, they always keep going.”

When I feel into the unspeakable hardships and heartbreak and systemic torture that was inflicted upon the indigenous peoples of this continent, and the countless languages and stories and practices lost to colonization, I find a modicum of solace in the fact that the stream my helping spirits showed me in that journey years ago remains unbroken. I find a deep well of gratitude for those humans who were able to keep a connection to that stream and pass that down through the generations, so that more of us – regardless of DNA and socioeconomic upbringing – can help bring it more into the collective awareness, and strengthen our present-day access to this stream that's been there forever.

May we all tap into this stream with humility and respect, allow it to move through us with grace and ease, and continue to evolve to be the best tools for this unending flow to spread into the ocean of our collective awareness.